I'll help you carry on
by liadone
Summary: If given the chance, upon hearing of Alexander Hamilton's death, Caleb would have liked to mourn for the young officer (he liked the bastard, dammit)! Things being what they were, however, his own grief was far from taking precedence. Instead, he was seated next to Laurens in the middle of a cold, dark and miserable camp for the 4th night in a row. What are friends for, huh?


Notes: 

Happy birthday John Laurens! Sorry I wrote about what must have been a really difficult time for you, but at least I gave you a happy ending..?  
I've always been fascinated by the Schuylkill River anecdote, so here is my take on it.  
Oh, also I don't think you really need to have seen Turn: Washington's Spies to read this story, but you should give it a go if you haven't already, it's pretty awesome imo. Really all you need to know is that Caleb is a) the best freaking friend one could ever wish for and b) a big puppy, and his boyfriend/best friend Ben (Major Benjamin Tallmadge) is an important member of Washington's military family.  
The Lams & Tallster ships can be seen as friendship or romance, it totally depends on the google you're wearing...  
This fic is unbeta'd, and english isn't my first language, so I'm sorry and please don't hesitate to point all my mistakes, ok?

The word went around camp at a breakneck speed. "Have you heard?" they said, "Alexander Hamilton drowned in the Schuylkill River".  
Alexander might not have had lineage or money, but his never-ending energy and his tendency to make his opinions (all of his opinions, on every subject) known guaranteed that almost everyone at Valley Forge had at least heard of the young aide de camp. A few hours after Henry Lee's fateful missive arrived, everyone, soldiers as well as officers, was busy discussing the news, and the reactions were greatly divided: some were lamenting an unfathomable loss while others were almost openly rejoicing getting rid of the abrasive bastard. One thing was certain, none was left indifferent. If given the chance, Caleb would have liked to mourn for the young officer (he liked the bastard, dammit!), but things being what they were, his own grief was far from taking precedence.  
If he had to explain why he was seated next to Laurens in the middle of a dark, cold and miserable camp for the 4th night in a row, Caleb could have given a lot of reasons. The simplest of them all was that John Laurens was his friend. For one, despite the fact that they belonged to very different social classes and that Laurens was his superior officer, John had never treated Caleb as if he was in any way inferior. Many officers in the force had made disparaging comments about Caleb's lack of a uniform, his loud voice, his crude manners, or what they perceived as his disrespect toward the chain of command when they witnessed his interactions with Ben Tallmadge. Truth be told, as pleased and amused as Caleb was by the outraged look on Ben's face when such comments went back to his ears, trying to keep Tallboy from getting himself court-martialed for being in yet another brawl was sometimes a little exhausting. But John Laurens was different. He always acknowledged Caleb when he happened upon him, always had a nice word or a joke, and never showed any impatience when Caleb enquired about Ben's whereabouts after being away from camp. Even more importantly, the south Carolinian officer was different from a lot of other soldiers because he truly believed in freedom. He was not only fighting for any personal gain, for glory, for fame, for reputation... he was fighting for the betterment of his compatriots' lives, and Caleb could do nothing but respect and admire him for it. Sometimes when he was not on duty and moral was not too shattered by the cold and the unending fighting, Caleb would make sure Ben stopped working for a few hours. He would bring some food and even more alcohol to the tent where the aides de camp were working, and remind them all that as vital and essential as their work was, they could not operate optimally if they did not see to their bodies needs once in a while. A camaraderie of sort quickly developed between Caleb and John as they respectively cajoled, teased, annoyed or blackmailed (whatever it took depending on the day) Tallmadge and Hamilton into taking a break. It was during these nights that Caleb became acquainted with Laurens' passionate stand on freedom for all and abolitionism. Throughout his travels all over the world, Caleb had learned that what his people often took for granted, or the only way to do things, were nothing but conveniences that no-one had yet dared to challenge. Slavery was the biggest example of such narrow-mindedness. The fisherman had met many a free man of color when at sea, and if there was one thing he could say for certain it was that these men were no different than any other he encountered: they prayed, bleed, laughed, cried, loved their family, missed their village as much as anyone else on the bowel of the ships. Back on the colonies, tho, such a thing did not seem to be common knowledge, or maybe it was willfully ignored, and the sin of slavery was not seen as anything but profitable business by the common masses as well as the men of power. Caleb did not like it, but he was self-aware enough to know that a former fisherman from Long Island turned lieutenant in the colonial army, a man without a degree or a dollar to his name, had virtually no power over that state of being. All he could do was fight for his country, and hope the future generations would understand that "all men were created equal" should also refer to black men. John Laurens was without a doubt the only person he knew who not only shared his views on the injustice of slavery but had the education, the eloquence and the charisma needed to maybe, just maybe, make a difference. Another of the many things Caleb liked about John Laurens was that for all his manners and his more than cultured upbringing, the man was a spitfire, a gung-ho little bastard who was not afraid to fight dirty when he felt that his friends' honor had been wronged. That was definitively something they had in common, and it made for a lot of hilarious stories to share on the rare occasions when Tilghman, Webb, Johnson, Hamilton, and Laurens joined Tallmadge and Brewster around a bonfire. (One reason he never shared with anyone but would not have bothered to deny if brought to his attention was the fact that John Laurens looked a lot like Benny, and Caleb could not, under any circumstance, imagine himself being anything but friendly to someone who reminded him of his dear Tallboy.)  
But most of all, maybe, what pushed Caleb to come and seat next to his friend night after night, was his own memories. He still remembered what it had been like, in these seemingly unending hours after Ben had felt into the Delaware, and he hadn't known if his best friend would survive or not. He still remembered the terror and the panic he felt. He still remembered wondering how in the world he'd be able to keep going if Tallboy didn't make it. He still remembered all of it and was unable to even imagine what John must be going through. All he know was, he wouldn't leave him, he wouldn't let him face the unimaginable alone.  
The first night, he just seated silently by his friends' side, keeping the bonfire going, running interference between Laurens and anyone with less honorable intentions, and making sure his friend wouldn't do anything he couldn't undo. John drank and drank, silently, eyes hollow, an empty shell of a man.  
They didn't exchange a word, not even a look, really.  
The second night, Caleb brought his mandolin with him when he joined the Lieutenant-Colonel. Brewster spent hours and hours playing, going through his repertory: soft ballads, laments, drinking songs, sailor songs... Laurens still refused to say a word or look at him, but he did share his alcohol so the former fisherman knew he was grateful, really.  
The third night some dam seemed to break. Laurens started to cry, first silently, but he soon was full on sobbing. Caleb kept the rest of the camp at bay through the power of his scowl, and when finally John quieted down in the early hours of the day, he carried him into Ben's tent, where the major kept an eye on him for the day while redacting Washington's endless correspondence.  
On the fourth night, finally, John spoke for the first time. They had been seating at their usual place near the fire for a while already. Looking at the stars, Caleb noted distantly that dawn would be there in a couple hours. He was debating the merit of trying to get Laurens to sleep when the man opened his mouth.  
"I don't know if anyone wrote to Mulligan. He needs to get informed, I should take care of it without further delay..." His voice was raw and broken, the grief and alcohol consumed in the last few days making it barely more than a whisper.  
"I can ask around f you want" volunteered Caleb immediately. "I'm sure Ben - the major Tallmadge I mean - will know, and if he doesn't he won't mind pestering the general for the information."  
"Thank you, Brewster. You have done more than was your duty already, and I am at a loss on how to repay you, though I swear I will endeavor to do so with what is left of my life. I couldn't possibly ask any more of you."  
"Please think nothing of it, sir."  
"On the contrary. I might have disappointed my father on a lot of occasions, but ingratefulness was never a flaw of my character. Be certain your friendship will be forever treasured. But I think it is more than time I attend to another who is dear to my heart. Alas I fear in my sorrow I neglected our dear Marquis whom, I hear, suffered quite the painful leg injury. I am certain he will forgive my lateness, but I shouldn't take advantage of his loving heart, for I know better than anyone how deep the grief he endures truly is."  
It was common knowledge that the only things keeping the Marquis de Lafayette from joining Caleb on his nightly vigil over John Laurens were the wound he received in the Brandywine battle and the insistence of Washington. The general himself was terribly affected by the loss of one of his favorite subordinate and had been more than adamant that the man who was, for all intent and purpose, his adopted son was not to leave his bed rest for at least a week. Lafayette, a man of action if there ever was one, was probably going stir crazy, and he would no doubt greatly appreciate having his friend by his side as soon as possible.  
"Then I will walk with you to the officers' tents, if it's alright with you, sir. I haven't seen Major Tallmadge since this morning, and I would bet you my boat that he hasn't taken a break or eaten anything in the meantime... I swear, sometimes I have to be the boy's mother!" Laurens felt his heart broke anew at the memory of all the times he had to do the exact same thing for his Alexander, but he soldiered on and gave Brewster a small smile.  
"By all mean, then, lead the way."

Later - much, much later, after the tears had dried and the laughter had subdued and most of the camp had gone to bed - Tallmadge would direct one of his rare full-blown smile at Caleb and exclaim "Of course the false rumors about Hammie would extend to the report of his death! Honestly, we should have seen this coming, I swear the legend surrounding this man keeps growing every day!"  
As it happened, on the fifth day after news of his death had reached Valley Forge, a slightly worse for wear and very disgruntled Alexander Hamilton, as well as 4 of the 5 men who had been under his command, had presented themselves to the sentinels. Hamilton was promptly escorted to General Washington's side. As Caleb and Benjamin were there too on some Culper's business, they witnessed Alexander relating his disastrous encounter with the British cavalry: how the British dragoons, who originally gave chase to captain Henry Lee, had soon gone after Hamilton and his men, how the musketry had wounded one man, killed another, and crippled Hamilton's horse. The aide de camp apparently had no choice but to swim to the other side of the river. In true Hamilton fashion, no sooner was he safe and - more or less - dry, he took his pen to inform John Hancock, President of the Continental Congress, that the British had potential to be in Philadelphia that evening. General Washington, in a rare display of sentiment, had hugged the younger man briefly, to hamilton's embarrassment and everyone else's great amusement. By the time Alexander was done with his report, word of his miraculous reappearance had made its way through camp, and every last one of the aides was assembled in front of their commander's tent, waiting impatiently for Billy to let them in. John Laurens, of course, was the first on to enter, and Caleb knew he wouldn't soon forget the look the two men exchanged upon reuniting. The broken "Alexander" and the soothing "Laurens, my dear Laurens, dearest, I'm here, I'm fine..." had more than one set of eyes watered. the men present might have been soldiers, but one would have had to be made of stone not to be moved by the obvious emotions displayed.  
Another retelling of Alexander's misadventures was asked for. When that was done, Laurens and Lafayette (who had finally disobeyed Washington and left his bed when he heard of his dear friend's return) had mock-reprimanded Alexander for writing to John Hancock but not sending word to camp, although the brightness of their smiles and the fact that Laurens had yet to relinquish his hold on his friend's hand had betrayed their true feeling.

On the fifth night after Alexander Hamilton's presumed death, Caleb stayed in Benjamin 's tent. As he reflected on luck and fate and the stubbornness of men who refused to drown, he looked upon his dearest friend, safe, sound and asleep a few feet from him, and decided that sometimes, life his freaking beautiful.

(And when a few days later he found a full case of madeira in his tent, with a note saying " _Thank you for taking care of my dear Laurens when I couldn't. You and the major deserve some rest tonight, yours sincerely_ ", well, it just proved his point!)


End file.
